Chapter 2: Cafeteria & Chess Moves
"Small-town high schools are like petri dishes. Add one girl with plot knowledge and watch the bacteria bloom."
---
If there was a word for the color outside my window, it was "wet."
Forks didn't just rain — it committed to it. Mist crawled down the glass like it was trying to break in and start a gray-scale horror film. I dragged myself out of bed with the grace of a dying cat, wrestled my hair into a ponytail, and stared at the jeans and hoodie I'd laid out the night before.
Classic Bella uniform.
Safe. Comfortable. And unlikely to attract Cullen eyes.
The mirror reflected a vaguely disgruntled girl with brown eyes, pale skin, and the expression of someone heading into war. I made a face at myself, grabbed my backpack, and headed downstairs.
Charlie was already in the kitchen, wearing his badge and stirring a cup of coffee that looked strong enough to melt steel.
"Morning, kiddo," he said.
"Morning." I raided the cereal cabinet and found something that wasn't expired. Barely.
He gave me a quick once-over. "You sure you don't want a ride?"
I shrugged. "I've got Clementine. We're bonding."
He smiled around his coffee. "You name all your cars?"
"Only the ones I plan to live through."
Charlie chuckled, then reached over and plucked something from my shoulder — a stray thread or maybe just an excuse to fuss.
"Text me if you need anything. Or if anyone gives you trouble."
"Dad, I'm not going to get shanked on the first day of school."
His brows rose. "...Should I be worried that's even a thought?"
"You raised a realist," I said, grabbing my keys.
"Remind me to apologize to your mother."
---
Clementine rumbled to life like a sleepy dragon and coughed the whole way to Forks High. I pulled into the student lot and parked between a silver Prius and an ancient station wagon that looked more haunted than vintage.
A few kids watched me get out like I was a new animal in the petting zoo. I smiled politely and kept walking. The backpack strap bit into my shoulder. The air smelled like moss and teen angst.
My plan was simple: blend in, survive, avoid vampire drama until at least Friday.
Step one? Check in at the office. The secretary handed me a map, a schedule, and a complimentary smile that said you poor thing.
Step two? Navigate social landmines.
---
First period was English. I slid into a seat in the back and was immediately greeted by a tall, eager boy with gel-spiked hair and a smile too wide for 8 a.m.
"Hi! You must be Isabella Swan. I'm Eric. Your very own personal Forks tour guide."
I blinked. "Do I get a map and a decoder ring?"
He laughed like I was charming instead of vaguely threatening. "No, but I can tell you which vending machines eat change."
I appreciated the effort. Eric was harmless. Like a socially hyper Golden Retriever. I nodded along as he gave me the rundown of local lunch traditions and who dated who last semester.
---
By the time I hit the cafeteria, I'd collected three more "tour guides": Mike Newton (blond, boy-next-door, already too friendly), Jessica Stanley (fast-talking gossip machine), and Angela Weber (quiet, observant, maybe the only one with chill).
They led me to a table like I was a new transfer at Hogwarts, and I accepted it — better to be in the loop than adrift.
And then it happened.
The Cullen Entrance.
---
Five vampires walked into a cafeteria.
No, really. It was like watching models descend from a fog machine. They entered in pairs — Rosalie with Emmett, Alice with Jasper — and then Edward. Alone. Moody. Brooding. Practically sparkling despite the lack of sunlight.
"They're... the Cullens," Jessica whispered like she was offering up a ghost story. "Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids."
"They don't date anyone," Eric added, leaning in. "Well, except each other."
I tilted my head and watched them sit, untouched food in front of them like set dressing.
Alice noticed me first. Her golden eyes locked on mine like she knew something I didn't.
Spoiler: she did.
Edward never looked up. Which was fine. I wasn't ready to play that game yet.
---
Edward's POV
Biology.
I hated this classroom. The scent of preserved specimens always clung to my clothes. But today, I had arrived early — as always — and took my seat, facing the door. It was routine. It kept things controlled.
Until she walked in.
The girl. Isabella Swan.
I smelled her before I saw her.
A scent unlike anything I'd ever known — wild and rich, like warm cedar and ink and something sharper beneath the surface. It struck me like a punch to the gut, visceral and instant. My throat ignited. My vision tunneled.
No.
She walked to our shared table, oblivious. Casual.
Her brown eyes scanned the room, then me — and lingered. No fear. No awe. Just… scrutiny. Like she saw through everything.
I couldn't breathe.
She took her seat beside me.
And I, a hundred-year-old monster masquerading as a boy, gripped the edge of the table and prayed to whatever gods I still believed in not to lunge for her throat.
---
Bella's POV
So, there I was.
Sitting next to Edward Cullen. The vampire. The legend. The future emotional wreck.
And he looked like I'd just personally drop-kicked his puppy.
He was rigid, pale (well, paler), and clearly either holding in a fart or suppressing the urge to commit homicide. His fists were clenched. His jaw was locked. His eyes were black and glued to the table.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing.
This was the scene — the one where movie-Edward looked like he wanted to barf and Bella just looked confused. But here I was, playing it live. Fully aware. And barely holding it together.
"Hi," I said softly, because I had to.
His head snapped up. His eyes met mine.
And I swear to God, he flinched.
---
We didn't speak for the rest of the period.
Mr. Banner droned about cellular anatomy while I doodled spirals in my notebook and Edward pretended I didn't exist. I'd seen people restrain themselves before — during family dinners, around screaming toddlers — but this was Olympic-level denial.
When the bell rang, he bolted.
Like, vampire speed.
Gone before I could even say "chloroplast."
---
The rest of the day passed in a weird haze.
Everyone wanted to know how I liked Forks, what I thought of the rain, if I needed help finding the gym. I smiled, nodded, and filed information away like a walking clipboard.
But inside?
I was rattled.
Not by Edward. I'd expected him to be intense.
It was the dream from last night. Damon. Young, human, smiling Damon. He felt real. Too real. Like something inside me had been cracked open and now the air felt different.
Forks was no longer the only supernatural energy in play.
---
Charlie was on the couch when I got home, flipping through channels with the intensity of a man avoiding thought.
"Hey, Bells. How was school?"
I dropped my bag and sank into the armchair with a groan. "I survived a cafeteria entrance, a Cullen meltdown, and three teenage boys offering to show me the vending machine. I deserve a medal."
Charlie chuckled. "You want a beer?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Is this a trick?"
He tossed me a root beer. "Close enough."
---
That night, I wrote in my journal — a real one, leather-bound and hidden under my mattress.
> Dream #1: Damon Salvatore, 1863. Human. Plantation field. Called me ghost girl.
Edward Cullen: Currently avoiding me like I'm contagious. Might be planning a dramatic inner monologue.
Goal: Stay alive. Avoid sparkly angst. Possibly warn Damon not to trust anyone named Augustine.
Then I crawled into bed and let sleep take me.